Hitting the Wall
by Berander
Summary: After the War, Torn has a few unsavoury memories of the past. He needs to tell someone, anyone at all, and hope they can truly understand what he has been through.
1. We Need to Talk

**This was in my head for a while. No Yaoi, even though the end may suggest it, so don't even think about it.**

**Current Rating: T**

**Warnings: Possible yaoi in later chapters, violent scenes**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jak 3, Jak II, etc.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - We Need to Talk**

* * *

_They're too strong! Hit the Wall, everyone back!" A guard shouted, waving a hand into the air, beckoning everyone else to follow._

"_Torn, hurry up, we're going" One screamed at him._

"_No..."_

"_Are you Crazy? Move it!" The guard reprimanded before holding Torn's hand and pulling him away._

* * *

These thoughts resounded in Torn's head, echoing off the dark, empty walls. It had been a few weeks since the great war was over, but since it ended, memories started gushing in, messing with the commander's cool head. And these were not the memories you cherished, oh no, these were the memories of tragedies, deaths and war. These thoughts nagged at Torn, trying to pull him down into a moment of silence so he could take it in, to release them, to let them free.

But Torn was too proud. A war hero curling into a corner and crying! That's absolutely insane, or so he thought. With each passing day, the memories kept proving harder and harder, beckoning him to listen.

* * *

"_Erol! What the hell are you doing!" Torn screamed to the man, who was standing on the roof of the building. The Readhead was holding someone, and the victim was still, hands up in streets below were filled with fleeing citizens, running from the metal head horde, who were starting to set buildings alight._

_"Help, someone help me!" The victim screamed._

_Screams of horror and despair filled the late afternoon air as the guards tried all they could to hold them back, before they too, were running like the wind towards the inner wall._

"_I'm doing what's best for the city!" Erol screamed back, holding a cold pistol in his hands."Say goodbye, Torn" _

"_You bastard" Torn only had time to say before..._

_*BANG*_

_And a body fell to the ground._

* * *

Torn woke up panting. it was another nightmare, again, the image still frsh in his mind.

'It's just a dream' he thought and he put his head down, put the blankets over him and tired to sleep.

Minutes turned to hours, hours turned into days and the memories still haunted him. He was still as cool And calm as he always was, but inside, he was fighting, not against a metal head, the dark makers or the KG, but himself. It was like he held a pistol, shooting at the thoughts in his head, willing them to go away. But they would not. For every time he forced one out, two took their place.

The mental pain was agonizing, he had to tell someone, somebody, someone who could understand. Someone who went through what he went through. Ashelin? No. She would not want to know, she already had enough to think about. Sig? Nope. He is probably dealing with that city of his. Keira? Definitely not. She was too soft for what he had in mind.

Who could he tell then, who?

* * *

"_I'm so sorry Torn, but that is how it is" The Shadow said calmly. "This is what happens with people like Praxis. This is what the city gets from them"_

_There was silence as the buildings behind them burned, the smoke filling the air. The occasional structural collapsed, a loud boom flooded the ruins as it hit the empty streets below._

"_I've made my choice" Torn started. "Let's do this"_

"_Then let's get started, we've got a war to win" The shadow cheered._

* * *

He needed advice, he needed to know how these voices would be quiet. He thought through a long list of names in his head and finally chose one. He hopped onto a zoomer which was conveniently parked outside the apartment. He ran to it and hopped on before heading towards the Port.

He drove though the streets, the civilians were walking peacefully below him, an occasional blast bot or metal head were being chased by the FL guards, but overall, it was heaven compared to months of war when it hell was set loose in Haven. The most destructive war ever in Haven's City.

He then went to the metal head section. Despite its name, there was not a metal head in sight, and the formerly acidic goo below him was on fire, the walls charred, eolished in some parts, flames reaching into the air. Turns out the stuff was flammable and a touch explosive, so when Jinx went there one day and dropped his half burning cigarette into the pools of green slime you probably knew what's going to happen next.

Seconds later, he had to run for his life when the thing went off. He survived, albeit several burns, but he was laughing. Saying something along the lines of "That... Was... AWESOME! Can I do it again?"

Pyromaniacs. He can never understand them.

He drove though and finally got to the metal doors. They and the walls seemed impervious to the blast, and except for a few black marks, nothing really happened to them. Problem was that the doors were jammed, so Torn had to think of another way to get in.

He rammed the zoomer into the gate, jumping off at the last second. The inner door exploded as the zoomer smashed into it, explosives courtesy of Jinx, who was watching it from the hospital.

"Oh yeah! That just made my day!" he cheered, before he sighed and went down in his bed, thinking of more targets to destroy.

Torn silently walked through the air lock and the outer door opened for him. The crunching of soil and dust erupted from his feet as he entered the serene forest. That old man better be here, he's always here. Just then he stepped onto the patch of grass in front of him, just to get shot by a small green eco blast.

"What the?"

"Don't step on the grass, Torn!" a voice shouted from behind him.

"What the hell was that for!" or snapped as he turned to face the short, irate green man.

"Just a warning. Remember, Never. Touch. The grass. **EVER!**"

The last word made it seem the forest itself was shaking, a torrent of leave falling on the pair. Torn just rolled his eyes at the shadow and brushed them off. Even though he went back a year ago, his older self is just as cranky and as protective of all things green as ever.

"I need advice" Torn demanded "Now."

"Calm down, sunshine, no need to get upset" Samos replied, ironically calm after the outburst.

Torn then just looked back, trying to wipe a few tears, before facing the sage.

"Never say that to me again" Torn said coldly.

"Oh, It's about that then? I shouldn't have said that..."Samos replied, finding the dirt below him rather interesting. He then perked his head up and looked at the commander.

"You should tell someone who is having a similar experience" he suggested.

"Ashelin?"

"Ashelin! No! She's already busy as it is, she does not need another bedtime story." Samos snapped. "Think about someone else, who else is going through that situation right now."

Torn looked up and thought before he landed on someone.

"Him? Are you serious? Not likely"

"Well, if you want to clear your head, you'll have to do it."

"I still don't like the idea" Torn said before he walked to the metal doors and went through them.

The zoomer hummed below him as he explored the port, or what was left of it. The war had messed up Haven, it was not this bad since the Dead town disaster. The ruined houses, the bullet holes on the streets and buildings made the scene even more depressing, the occasional flame leaping out of an abandoned building.

Today, he made his choice. He was going to tell someone. Torn leaned forward on the one person zoomer as he headed south into the port. He drove around over the murky waters of the port before heading to the "Southern HQ" as he preferred, but known to many as the Naughty Ottsel.

He drove over to the glowing ottsel, which was repaired, thanks to Tess, and hoped off the vehicle, landing on his feet with a soft thud. He then walked to the bar, and hoped that the person he was looking for was there.

"Hiya Torn, want a drink?" Tess asked him

"No, not really" he replied before Daxter appeared behind the counter.

"Torn! What are doing here!? In MY Place!" Daxter screamed when seeing the tattooed wonder entering through the doors of his "hallowed" enterprise.

"_Huh, dejà vu?"_ Torn thought, remembering how the scrawny little rat reacted last time when he saw Torn "messing" with the bar.

"Well, look what's crawled out of the sewers" Torn jeered, the target definitely not amused.

"Anything you need, Torn?" Tess asked happily.

"Serve drinks? To TORN! Are you nuts? Daxter retorted.

"Dax, calm down, It's just Torn" another voice called from one of the seats on the side.

"Yeah, it's Torn alright, wanting to do something to my place!"

Torn ignoted Daxter and looked around and saw him. He was leaning against a wall, the gun pointed down to the ground like a staff. His long, blonde hair cut off long ago, his eyes as blue as the midday sky.

He stood there and looked at him and visually inspected him. Just the man he needed.

"Jak, we need to talk" Torn said to him before walking towards him.

This is it. Just the man he needed to talk to.


	2. Welcome to the Guard, Son

**Hello again, readers, I'm thinking of raising the rating to M in the next chapter, this being the KG and all. I am also considering to rewrite the first chapter, because i don't feel that I went in depth with it**

**Enjoy!**

**Warnings: Violence, angst and swearing.**

**Disclaimer: I dont own Jak and Daxter etc.**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Welcome to the Guard, Son**

* * *

Torn and Jak were seated, opposite from each other in one of the ottsel's 'famous' booths. It took them a while to find one though. Some smelt like gunpowder, eco and dust, others smelt as if someone spilled a whole keg of beer in it. One smelt especially like someone had a lurker shark for breakfast, and spewed over the tables, chairs and walls. The one they sat in now smelt like cigarette smoke, but it wasn't that bad.

Torn sat there twiddling his thumbs and tapping the table. Why was he so nervous, why was it so damn hard to tell someone. It was a few minutes of putrid silence before someone decided to break the ice.

"Why the hell did you call me just to sit here in this rotten place?" Jak asked, clearly not amused. His eyed were frozen solid, looking right at the commander, if Jak had eyes that could destroy things just by looking at it, the hole it would of made would of went through the walls and pierced everything up to the northern wall.

"Well..."

"I have no time for games, Torn, spit it out!" Jak demanded, a scowl evident on his face.

Torn was silent for a few seconds before he could bring himself up to speak.

"I know..." Torn hesitated, cutting off his speech, bowing his head to his lap. It wasn't this hard to talk to someone, but why was he faltering now?

"I know... how you feel, exactly... how you feel..." Torn said, struggling to put his thought into words.

Jak became furious and it seemed as if he was going to rip the metal table from the floor and throw it into some nondescript place in the wasteland.

"You know how I feel? Know how I feel! YOU KNOW NOTHING!" Jak roared, deafening anyone within thirty metres of their meeting, much more so for Torn.

"Have you come from paradise just to get some asshole commander to pick you up and into prison!?"

"No."

"Have you had that same commander torture you with dark eco for two years, two whole freakin' years!"

"Not exactly , no..."

"Have you, as a result of that same torture; get a persona inside your head, coming out to kill everything in sight!"

"No."

"Have you ever saved a city from the gates of hell, only in a year later to be banished for life for crimes you did not commit!"

"No..."

"To top it off, has your father died in a war he was not committed, and have him die at your arms, only knowing who he was when he was already dead!"

A choking silence filled the bar. Jak was panting from the outburst, he was spent and tired, and it stayed that way until Torn spoke again.

"No, no I have not"

"Then" Jak said, calmer but as colder as ever, "You don't know how it feels to be me."

Torn was silenced. He did know what exactly to make of it. But he still had to tell someone, to release it, so he finally, after much mental persuasion, brought himself to speak again, avoiding Jak's eyes.

"To understand... I have to tell you something, kid."

"What is it?" Jak asked, his temper cooling but still warm to touch.

"A story..."

"Aww... If it isn't Torny-kins telling Jakky boy a bedtime story"

That comment came on right on time, shattering any evidence of seriousness.

Torn looked up to see a rather obnoxious, talkative and most of all, annoying orange rat standing on the table. Sad ball of fuzz was giving him a mocking smile. That just pushed Torn off the edge. In one swift movement, he grabbed the ottsel and his Blade and put the sharp edge barely a centimetre from his throat.

"If you tell anyone, **ANYONE** at all, your **ASS** is **MINE**" Torn threatened, the ottsel shaking in his grip.

"Deal" Jak agreed from behind him.

"HEY!" the captured Ottsel squealed in shock, before he calmed down and gave Torn a sly smile.

"Oh sure, Torn. I won't tell a soul" Daxter said mockingly. This resulted in the blade touching his skin, not hard enough to break his skin, but hard enough to carry the point across. No pun intended.

"Ok then, fine, fine, fine, FINE!" Daxter whined. "Now let me go!" he protested.

Torn then released his grip. If you thought he would of carefully put Daxter down you were wrong, He swung his arm and 'released' his grip, sending said ottsel flying to the bar, in the accommodating hands of Tess. Unfourtunately, the throw was strong enough to push Daxter and Tess off the bar in a rather furry heap.

"And close the bar doors!" Torn barked.

"I'm kinda busy!" Daxter replied before a girlish giggle was heard from his and Tess' general direction. Not wanting to know what was going on behind the counter, Torn faced Jak, who was impatiently waiting for him.

"Are you going to start or what?!" Jak demanded.

"Well, all of this started on my first day..."

* * *

It was an unusually cold day for a Haven winter, sending most of the populace indoors. The KG, despite the weather conditions, trudged in the frozen streets, snow adorning the walls and floors.

Today was also the day of the draft, where if you wanted to join, you had to go to the fortress. If you did not 'want' to go, you were arrested and dragged there nevertheless.

I was inside my house in what is now dead town. I lived with my mother in a two story building. I was lying in my bed, not bothered to get up. That is, until mother called.

"Darling, they're here!" She screamed.

"Who?"

A resounding crashed answered my question, followed by a wooden bang. Someone had broken in the front door. I stayed silent and listened, clinging to the bed sheets.

"By order of Barron Praxis, the grand protector of Haven city, your son is required to be at the fortress" a gruff voice comannded.

"Why?" she asked the men downstairs. "My son has done no wrong!"

"He is needed, that is all you need to know, now step aside!" The voice boomed through the floor.

"NO, I will not let you take him away!" she protested. This was followed by a loud thud and a rather pained cry.

"Search the house, we will not leave until he is found" the voice commanded.

At once there was the sound of opening doors, the smashing of pottery and the footfalls of the guards. I hoped that they would not find me but I heard someone running up the stairs. I wanted to hide, but he was up there before I could move.

"Sir" he talked in his communicator. "I found him"

"Good" a muffled sound replied. "Handcuff him and take him away."

"Yes sir"

At once I was picked up, and handcuffed. I tried to get free but the bastard shot me with the shock guns, immobilizing me. One that happened, he turned me around and held the handcuffs, dragging me by the bounds.

When we left the house, I saw my mum lying on the floor. A few cuts on her face, and an occasional bruise here and there, she looked like she took a few beatings.

"Mum!" I called to her. "Help!"

"I'll be right" she called back. "Just listen to the guards and you'll be ok, sunshine."

In your dreams, woman, I thought in my head as I was dragged outside the house. Remember how I said that it was snowing? Well, I was only wearing my pyjamas so the reaction that I got from the cold ground was shocking. The guards dragged me through the slums, and my back seemed to always hit the bumps and cracks on the ground.

If you know the slums well, you'll know the endless crevices and holes in the floor of the place.

By the time I got to the Fortress doors, the cloth on my back was tattered, gone in some places, cut in others; blood oozing out of some of them, but the guards didn't seem to care. I was the shoved into a room, with around fifty other men and around seven women there, all of them have suffered the same treatment.

Some were trying to tend their wounds, others were helping them and most of them lay back on the walls of the room. There were no chairs, or any furniture here for that matter, the room was pitifully bare. Except for the constant buzzing of the lights, the room was silent, it seemed the silence was choking us all.

I was about to lean against the walls when an infamous read head walked in though the doors. I'm sure we all know him quite well. The bastard was never known for being nice.

"Get the bloody hell up, all of you, up, up UP!" he screamed. Few of them sprang up, but most of them still lay against the wall.

"Why should we, you pitiful asshole?" one asked tiredly. The commanding redhead was definitely not amused. Seeing his 'cooperativeness', he found a way to seize everyone else's. He mercilessly pulled out his pistol and shot the man with the pistol, piercing his left arm. The man screeched in pain, his voice echoing in the cold empty room.

"Who wishes to join him?" he asked the crowd.

The rest of us hurriedly ran towards the centre of the metal room into a disorganized rabble, people still reeling away from the injured man.

"Get into order!" The read head barked. "Attention!"

The Group immediately stood straight, even though they were not exactly 'soldier' material. He then dragged us to our spots, to those that did not comply had received their bruises, compliments of the guard. When he finally shoved us into a neat looking group, he paraded in front of us like a restless shark.

"I, am your training officer for today, I am Erol" He said to us.

"I hope that your co-operation was... well received by the guard" He continued. "As of today, you are now part of the guard, like it or not!"

Erol was now at least five men away from me, praise the precursors. The guy in front of him probably got both the news and the weather, and it seemed especially stormy where he was standing, and the news were not received well from the others.

A few grunted or sighed, but when Erol looked at them, they were cut off, as if his face was a silenced gun.

"You are the new trainees from the draft, as of such, we will train you to be one of the guard... If you last the first week" He sneered. Erol had walked until he was right in front of me, when I took my opportunity to speak.

"As if that will happen, asshole"

Erol froze, and looked at me, fuming. He definitely did not like being told off or insulted by a rookie, and he didn't take it well either.

"What did you say, rookie?" he asked menacingly, pushing his face towards mine. If you were about ten metres away, seeing this, it may have looked as if we were close enough to kiss. Now that's disturbing.

"What did you say!" He barked, his voice hitting my ear with all its force.

"As if that would happen, you big, fat, egotistical, fucking **asshole**."

And at that, I punched him, square in the face knocking him back. I believe we know Erol well, and he doesn't like losing, especially to an 'upstart' rookie.

He lunged forward, tackling me to the ground. The crowd parted as our little personal brawl moved around the room. He gave me a few punches in the face and the chest, but not until I stamped upon his manhood did he get serious.

With a yowl he pulled out a knife and started trying to stab me, he narrowly missed in some cases, while I punched him clean in the face once again, then kicked him at his stomach, making him fall back on his back, casing his knife to fall out of his hands

He tried to reach for his knife when I stamped on his hand, earning a scream and a curse.

"Not likely"

He then pulled out his gun and it seemed I was about to be really screwed until a larger hand held his and he released his grip on it. Standing next to us was none other than the mega bastard Praxis himself. Apparently he entered the room for a few private conversations with Erol when he saw us fighting and sat back and watched.

Sick bastard the guy is. He then stood there and waited, Erol quickly stood up and saluted.

"Welcome to the guard, men!" He announced to all of us. "You did especially well there, what is your name?" Praxis asked.

Erol was giving me death stares so deadly that it could destroy the planet. I just smiled. Apparently the baron never asked for names until you were far up in the guard. That shocked Erol to no end. At least that cocky idiot got told.

"My name is Torn, sir" I told him as confidently as I could.

Praxis put his hand on my left shoulder and patted it. Weird, isn't it.

"This is exactly what I want in the guard, he has skill, courage and an inability to back down" Praxis announced, Erol's glares becoming more deadlier with each passing word.

"It's an impressive feat to do what you did, son, especially when you just took down the commander of the guard"

"Commander of th-"

"That was nothing" Erol screamed. "I was off guard, I wasn't ready!" he protested.

"Give this man his own squad of ten men, his talents could be... very useful" Praxis boomed. Erol's jaw probably hit the floor.

Praxis bent down and wispered in my ear, if that was possible at all.

"Welcome to the Guard, son."

he then straightened himself before he statred talking again.

"And Erol"

"Yes sir?" He asked, straightening up and saluting again.

"Don't be such an ass kisser"

At that, the "Grand Protector of 'Haven' City" Baron Praxis left the building. Erol's face was absolutely priceless. He first got beaten by a rookie, the rookie got promoted and he received a verbal equivalent of a black eye from the baron himself. He was royally pissed indeed.

"What the-"

"You may have won this time, rookie, but this won't happen again!" he retorted. "Next time, you're mine! I swear it!"

Huh, he sounds almost wrong there. He always uses those lines of something similar when he loses. I sometimes wondered if that lunatic was gay. Déjà vu anyone?

And then he left us to our own devices, stamping his way out. It's surprising that he didn't make a hole in the floor really, before we were told to leave and come back the next day. Something told me that he wasn't in the best mood for instructing a few upstarts today.

And I wasn't in joyous spirits either.

The walk home was uneventful, I was still reeling from the sores that I got from the Journey to the fortress. I wondered how I would break it to mother.

Finally, after a few minutes more of walking, I reached the doorway of the house, since the door wasn't exactly there anymore. I walked in and I found a sorry sight.

Tables were overturned, plates were broken, furniture was scattered, tossed or broken, and in the middle of it all was my mother, who was crying her heart out, tears dripping off her cheeks. Once she saw me, she jumped up and hugged me.

"Thank mar, you're alright!" She cried when she hugged me. " What have they done to you?" She asked, noticing the cuts on my back.

"I was dragged to the fortress, and that's what I got" I said.

"Oh dear, promise me you will never be one of those monsters" She cried, her chin on my shoulders, her tears dropping onto my back.

I didn't want to tell her I was forced into the guard, yet alone the spontaneous promotion. She would be heartbroken. I did not want to give her the bad news, not yet, not ever.

"I promise" I said, my gut wrenching. I just hope that she will never know.

* * *

"Aww... Torn is a momma's boy"

"What the-"

Torn turned around from facing Jak and saw at least seven FL guards looking at him, helmets off. It was probably their break hour, but break hour is no this late.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Torn asked the guards, who were lazing back, as if they were on top of a hill, looking at the view below. His trademark scowl was on his face, but the guards were still there, unwavering.

"We're just relaxing, rookie"

That just pissed torn off.

"Ok, get out of here, Or I'll dock half of your pay for the next month!"

"Says who?" Said one upstart guard, smiling.

"Says me, now get the fuck out!" Torn screamed, shoving his face into one of the guards, pointing at the door of the bar. Torn was definitely not amused.

"Torn just kissed Evan! He's gay! Hahahaha!" The other guards chorused in unison before bowing down in fits of laughter. Torn was now absolutely pissed. He got his pistol and shot into the roof. That caused most of the guards to be silent.

"Now, get your lazy patrolling asses out of here" he demanded, coldly and slowly. The guards the backed off slowly and headed for the door. When the last of then left through the door, Torn was the first to speak, and his words definitely were not pretty at all.

After he finished his bout of cussing, he stared right at a particular ottsel, who was standing on the bar table, smiling.

"You set this up, didn't you" he said slowly, but harsh enough to get the message across.

"I didn't tell anyone didn't I, you did, and you told them the whole thing"

Oh how Torn hated loopholes, more than ever he wished the rat doom and despair, but if Torn killed Daxter, he'd be dead really quick soon, depending on how much dark eco was in Jak. But he, despite his fury, restrained himself.

Tonight definitely wasn't the night that he wanted to try him.

"Huh, you actually got to fight the sadistic moron" Jak said in amazement. "You don't know what I'd do to even lay a punch on him.

"Well, you don't know how many in the guard would pay just to touch him, how much more to tackle him to the ground."

"Well, at least you actually fought him, After I got out of prison, I just wanted to kill him and Praxis, but I never really laid a hand on either one of them, and I didn't kill them either" Jak said, downcast.

"But you fought them, didn't you?"

"Fighting is one thing, vengeance is another. I have never seemed to exact my vengeance on them, but count yourself lucky."

"Next week. Same place." he said to Jak, though it was more of a command than a question.

"Next week it is." Jak replied before Torn left the bar, leaving them alone for the night.

* * *

**I just hope I wasn't too OOC with anyone, especially Torn or Jak.**

**Cheers.**


End file.
